


Polo Shirts & Honeymoon Suites

by scalphunter



Category: White Collar
Genre: Drama, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Romance, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalphunter/pseuds/scalphunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Neal posing as a couple at a hotel to uncover series of frauds and money laundering and other crimes. While Peter is good and reliable undercover, Neal is a brilliant con-artist, together things always seem to be more that expected. So, what could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polo Shirts & Honeymoon Suites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxsatinangelxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxsatinangelxx/gifts).



> First White Collar fic. Enjoy.
> 
> For a good friend of mine, who gave me this as a photo prompt:  
> http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1mV1yXc3TpI/TeWYc0RxlbI/AAAAAAAABKs/q0NLU-HFjoM/s1600/5+-+Peter+and+Neal.jpg
> 
> She's the Neal to my Peter and I wouldn't change that :)

 

It’s arriving back at the reception that throws Peter off, and he knows he’s scowling in a feeling of resigned ‘this is not going to end well for anyone here’ kind of way. They’re at _The Woodstock Inn,_ Vermont, attending an undercover operation regarding corporate fraud and money laundering, posing as a couple (El had laughed for twenty minutes, eyes closed and giggling, when he had explained before leaving, saying – _‘Oh I wish I could see this. Will there be any photos?’,_ to which he responded with, _‘Please don’t say things like that. And No. No photos’,_ after a moment, _‘How we’re going to pull this off I don’t know. Bye, honey’_ ). They had ambled in from the gardens where they could have a private talk about the case.

Neal claps a hand around his shoulders and pulls him in, and Peter doesn’t even need to look at him to know that he’s got that half sympathetic (mocking) and half ‘well, it could be worse’ expression, and Peter’s not looking at him. He just isn’t – won’t – because Neal seems to have this gift of enticing Peter to slam him up against an available vertical surface, often with few words. Peter blinks and tries to regroup.

‘Don’t worry, Peter’ Neal says, lowly, and Peter makes a growling sound of frustration which only causes Neal to shift and jostle him.

There’s a good reason why he’s frozen to the spot, rigid and unmoving, wants to turn around, walk out, and drive all the way back to New York (an eight hour drive), and that reason is Caroline Mathers.

Caroline Mathers went to college with him, his year, and Peter can say hand on heart that Elizabeth and Diane are the only women he knows that can worry him and he will live to protect in some shape or form – and the two of them have saved him from danger and his own stupidity.

Caroline Mathers genuinely just annoys him.

She’s approximately five foot six, dark brown eyes, long straight light brown hair and an hour-glass figure. She’s still wearing massive heels, Peter notes, flicking his eyes downwards. He agnizes the second she spots them –

‘Peter? No way, Peter?!’

 _Oh godammit_ , Peter mentally curses. She comes over, a swift sway of her hips, and her glossy red mouth smiles. This whole operation has not gone sideways, just hit the brakes, taken a wider detour and got sort of lost.

‘Hello Caroline’ he offers in what he hopes is in the realms of approachable and friendly. Which he can be, you know, when in a good mood.

‘Hi. Wow. I haven’t seen you since graduation’ she gushes, and eyes him up, ‘You look good’

She’s fishing for compliments so Peter humours her, ‘So do you’ he says smiling a little. It’s not that smooth and he can’t bring himself to care.

‘Who’s this pretty boy?’ she tilts her head at Neal.

‘This pretty boy is Neal’ he says and Neal smiles impishly at her in reply. ‘Neal this is Caroline. We went to college together’

‘Neal, huh, what do you do?’ Caroline says before the other man has a chance to respond.

‘I’m an artist’

‘Really? I thought Peter didn’t know a Monet from Degas’ Caroline inquires, eyes sparking with confusion.

‘That’s funny because Peter’s why I love Frederic Bazille’ Neal insists, a sharp note hooking and it’s defensive, giving Peter the inappropriate, strangled urge to laugh.

‘Why are you here then, Caroline?’ he asks and she sighs.

‘Well, the usual, I’m ferrying around for my boss. She’s a part of Jackley & Fairweather jewellers’ she replies, ‘Business not pleasure’ and she smirks at Peter. He desperately wants to correct her and he can’t.

There’s a high pitched ringing had Caroline fusses around in her shoulder bag, holding up her finger, ‘Bare with’ and then scowls at the caller ID of her phone. ‘I’ll be right back’ she tells them, answering the call and turning her back, wandering off behind one of the marble pillars.

Peter really hopes the gym is open later because he really needs to hit something.

Instead, he goes and jabs the elevator button. Neal considerately does not try to pry while this may have something to do with the heavy set of his shoulders.

Back in their extravagantly plush shared suite, Peter flops into a round-backed velvet and black oak chair before deciding a split second later that no, actually, and stands so abruptly he almost scrapes the chair across the beige and gold flecked carpet.

‘Who’s Caroline?’ Neal asks and Peter rubs a hand down his face.

‘She’s an ex-girlfriend from college’ he grits out, and Neal hums.

‘I figured that much from your intimidatingly tense shoulders’

Peter stills, eyes widening. It’s often creepy how much Neal fathoms from so little information, reminding Peter just why Neal was the most wanted white collar criminal in the U.S at one mark in time.

‘Stop being surprised by things I figure out. I know you like me for more than my stunning good looks’ Neal throws him a wicked grin, ‘I got a brain’ he adds. Peter rolls his eyes to the ceiling. ‘So, you’re inability to flirt worked on more than Elizabeth?’ Neal marvels fakely and Peter glares at him. The other man laughs his apology, ‘Seriously, Peter?’

‘Yes’ he says, louder than he intends, so he groans, shutting his eyes and letting his shoulders droop. ‘Remember I told you that I was a jock and in a fraternity?’ and he opens his eyes to find Neal studying him with an oddly soft expression. It’s gone in a blink and he nods dutifully.

‘I do, you were nearly drafted for Twins’

‘That’s right, well before that, I took my roommate’s stupid advice and he set me up with Caroline. Long story short: we were dating and she became possessive and clingy and one time I was talking to a friend’s visiting baby sister and she accused me of flirting. The absurdity of that is not lost on you, I hope?’ Peter offers, dryly.

‘Not so much, no. What was your plan to end it? Quite frankly she doesn’t seem to hate seeing you again’ Neal asks and Peter bites his lower lip in consideration.

‘I told her I was gay’

Neal’s reaction is comical. His eyes fly wide and his mouth drops into a perfect ‘o’ shape.

‘That’s… very sneaky of you’ he sounds proud.

‘Not the word I was expecting’ Peter replies honestly.

‘Right, so explicate this for me, you have an ex-girlfriend downstairs who thinks you’ve been gay since your college years, while we’re pretending to be a couple to get access to Ramirez’s files?’

‘Essentially yes’

‘Wonderful’

Peter shrugs somewhat helplessly, shoving his hands into his pockets otherwise he wants to fidget. Neal eyes the floor. He’s thinking, planning, and Peter wishes he could watch all the ingenious connections generating inside that head of his sometimes. He knows, or likes to think he does, Neal better than anyone, can read him, yet there are interludes when Peter’s all out and lost, scrambling to catch up.

Neal raises his head and strides back over to Peter.

‘Here’s what we’re going to do’ and the fact that Neal uses _we_ and not _you_ relaxes him; minutely.

 

 

 

He doesn’t know how they ended up in this state – Neal giggling, dangling a champagne flute from his fingertips as if he were a delicate fashion designer and, you know, camp. Peter inwardly cringes, and thanks his training that he doesn’t let it show, when Neal’s free hand slips up the back of his jacket, then trails down to the belted waistband of his slacks, and he can feel the dull angles Ramirez’s phone. Judging by the soft, pitter-patter vibrations, Neal had blind dialled Diane or Jones in the van to track the number.

‘You okay, honey?’ Neal asks, not missing a beat, and all in Peter’s space. They’ve never had a problem with personal space bubbles – El had pointed this out – from the get go, however there’s intent in the way Neal’s hanging off him. It’s all an act and one that Neal can play spectacularly well.

_(‘I’m exceptionally good at playing the trophy, Peter’ Neal had said, kicking his feet onto the couch cushion next to him and stretching his limbs, his eyelashes fluttering, their basic under-cover info file open on his lap. There’s a twinge settling low in his chest at that.)_

‘Fine, sweetheart… just tired. It’s been a long month’ Peter replies, and while he’s fleshing it out, broadening the implication and giving it girth, it’s all essentially truth. Peter prefers it that way. He isn’t comfortable outright lying, never has done. Neal grins, slow and indulgent, and Peter is reels at how stunning Neal is ( _‘Has anyone ever not fallen for your charms?’ Peter had asked, in wonderment and just a bit of annoyance. Neal had stopped, off kilter, staring at Peter like if he does that hard enough, he’ll get his message across telepathically. Peter still hasn’t figured that out. He recovered and said ‘Not since 4 th grade’). _Neal slides his eyes over to Ramirez who’s mildly amused and enraptured by Neal.

‘Did I mention, my Peter is a tech assistant at Tunex. He’s a workaholic’ Neal ticks at his teeth, yet his tone is fond, subtly hinting at the air of an exasperated spouse that Peter very nearly tenses. El’s tone is identical. Neal’s hand finally leaves his waist, the heat disappearing, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about noticing that. Neal pockets the phone. He clings to Peter in order to disguise it, but he doesn’t then let go of Peter, he merely takes his hand instead. The action draws attention to their matching white gold rings courtesy of the FBI. When Jones, who had the tact not to make a joke other than grin happily, produced them, Neal had dramatically dropped to one knee and asked Peter to marry him in the middle of the bullpen. Peter had vacillated between accepting and rejecting. What he actually did was just snort and tell him to get up off the floor. Feeling the warm slide of his actual wedding band made a horrible tightening in his gut and his hand bare. Like he was committing infidelity.

‘How long have you two been together?’ Ramirez asks, sounding surprised, at what Peter can’t figure, he is about to answer seeing as he hasn’t said a whole lot when -

‘Four years in May’ Neal says confidently.

That wasn’t included in the file.

Four years ago, he caught and arrested Neal Caffrey and sent him off in cuffs (for the first time, anyhow).

This impresses Ramirez, and so Peter silently wishes in surge of irritation and possessiveness, that he would _quit_ looking at Neal like that. Peter leans across, taking the champagne flute from Neal’s grasp and sipping from it. He resists the urge to smirk in catching Neal’s lowered lashes and parted lips.

‘Four years ago I caught him and I’m not letting him go’ Peter says over the silver rimmed glass, the hidden meaning not lost on Neal whose eyes wide ever so and he’s got a smile that could be accidental because it’s shy and -

‘I would be grateful if the two of you would join me tomorrow afternoon for a little chat, as I feel a friend of mine needs me. A clerk will send you the precise details, excuse me’ he bows his head in social politeness, and Peter watches him sidle up to his ‘friend’, one of Ramirez’s colleagues, and confer with him.

‘Well that was easy’ Neal mutters, close and breath tumbling out.

Peter suddenly feels every ounce of this operation and what Ramirez is going to tell him and ask of him.

Right now all he can do is enjoy the view from the expansive windows overlooking the south courtyard, and try not to think about sleeping arrangements.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 up tomorrow :) 
> 
> Leave comments/kudos if you like it.


End file.
